Coming Home
by kelhome
Summary: Dean finds out what's wrong with Sam, and he's going to fix it.   Season 6, post 6.3
1. Chapter 1

Sam was going to have to tell Dean. He'd kept it from him as long as he could. But, he could feel the way Dean was eyeing him now, like something was off, like he couldn't be trusted. Sam had had enough of that look to last him a lifetime. Hell, ten lifetimes. He was _trustworthy_, for God's sake. He wasn't evil or dishonest or sneaking around.

But, he _was_ different. Dean had sensed it. Sam had known he would. It was the main reason he'd stayed away as long has he had. Dean knew Sam too well. He could hide it from everyone else. But, the time had come. Dean was always looking at him, asking him if he was okay, telling him there was something different with him. Which, of course, there was. It was only fair to tell him. And, if Dean chose to leave, if it was too much for him to deal with, Sam supposed he could live with that.

If he were being truthful, Sam preferred the way he was now. After everything, being caged in hell, Lucifer in his skin, the whole Ruby demon blood disaster, even going back to the horror of Dean's dying, the never-ending guilt over his deal…back to dad's sacrifice, Jessica's murder…just, _all _of it. Sam was much happier with how things were now. Well, he couldn't really _feel _happiness, of course, but he remembered what it sort of felt like, and that was close enough.

Dean got out of the car when then stopped for gas. They were about an hour away from some little town where a super-charged ghost was killing kids on a playground. Sam figured it was as good a time as any to let Dean in on his little secret. If Dean chose to book, well, Sam could handle the ghost okay on his own.

Dean came out of the station's Mini Mart, and tossed Sam an orange juice and a yogurt as he got behind the wheel. Sam nodded. "Thanks."

Dean started the car and wheeled them back onto the two-lane blacktop. "How far to Sandy Springs?"

Sam looked out at the road. "About 40 miles."

Dean nodded. They drove in silence for about ten minutes. When Sam saw a sign for a scenic overlook in one mile, he decided it was time. He cleared his throat. "Hey, can you pull over at the scenic thing?"

Dean didn't look away from the road. "What? You should have gone back at the gas station."

Sam shook his head. "No, I just, I need to talk to you about something."

Dean glanced at him, but Sam turned his head to look out the window. Dean pulled off on the ramp and coasted to a stop in front of a picnic table. Sam got out of the car, looked out at the view. They were in the mountains of Pennsylvania, and there was a large valley laid out below the little grassy area bordered by a stone fence. Sam thought it was picturesque. A good place to tell his brother his big news and see how he took it. He turned, saw that Dean was already looking leery. Sam reached for a smile. "C'mon. Sit."

If this had been pre-pit, Sam would have been really nervous, filled with anxiety about Dean's reaction. But, he didn't have to live like that anymore. He sat down on the table top, put his feet on the bench. He looked out at the view, and then, over at Dean who sat beside him. "So, you're right. There is something different about me. And, I know what it is, and you aren't going to like it. But, Dean, just think about it before you say anything, okay? Don't fly off the handle, for once. Just, listen to what I'm going to tell you, and think about it from my point of view, alright?"

Dean closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Never a moment's peace with you, huh Sam?"

Sam laughed softly. "Very true. For me, too, you know? That's why this isn't really a bad thing. Dean, my whole life, it's been about loss. It's been filled with so much confusion and anger…and just, fuckin' _sadness_, you know? In hell," he had to pause. Even if he couldn't feel it, he could remember it pretty damn well. He cleared his throat, pushed through the echoes of the horror. "Hell made my life look like a goddamned happy-ever-after story book. What it felt like to be there, they way Lucifer could torture me, not physically," he glanced at Dean who was looking at the ground and nodding. "I don't have to tell you about that. I mean, torture has a beginning, middle and end, right? Even when it starts up again, you know you'll eventually pass out or die. But, down there…he just really tore me up, on the _inside_. What he could make me _feel…_And, it never stopped. Never _stopped_. And, it wasn't even very long, turns out. I was gone, what, a week topside? That's hardly anytime at all down there, right? But, no lie, it just broke me wide open..."

He felt Dean's hand land on his shoulder and squeeze. He glanced over and Dean's eyes were filled with tears.

Sam shook his head. "No. No, don't be upset. It's over, and, actually, it's what I wanted to tell you. When I felt myself being pulled from the cage, at first, I didn't think it was real. I thought, 'wow, Lucifer's figured out a whole new game…make Sam think he's getting out, then, yank him back in…' I didn't think it was real until I was separating from Lucifer. Like, _physically _separating from him. And, when I was finally on one side and he was on the other, I felt something else tugging at me, like, pulling something from inside me. I was getting farther from the cage, felt like I was moving up, toward warmth and just as I was absorbing that I might really be getting out, something just popped free. Like, all the pain and fear and devastation just slipped out. I heard somebody laugh, just on the edges of my consciousness. It was Lucifer. He said, 'Perfect. Send the little shit back without the one thing he needs to feel human!'"

Sam stopped talking, remembering when he felt the essence of himself leave his body. He felt the detachment, and his mind had actually gone quiet. It was such a relief, he'd almost missed what he'd heard next. He looked away from Dean, this was the part he didn't want to tell him. But, he was done hiding it, and Dean did deserve to know. "Something, whatever had a hold of me, whispered, 'You won't miss it, Sam. You'll see. I'll take good care of it.' And, then, I slammed into the wet ground in the middle of the night in Stull Cemetery."

Sam turned his head, looked back at Dean. "But, I knew what was taken. Whoever it was that got me out of that cage, took my soul, Dean. And, to be perfectly truthful…it was kind of a blessing in disguise. Because, I don't miss it, feeling things. Think of it, no more fear or sadness or guilt. Just, nothing. I can hunt and help people and live my life without all the pain. It was weird at first, but, I've gotten used to it."

Dean sat there, on the hard picnic table and tried not to throw up. He turned away from Sam and looked out over the sunny valley stretched below. He made himself breathe deeply, stay calm. But, holy fuck! Sammy didn't have a soul. _'I don't miss it…' _

_That_ was why he wasn't Sam. That was why he stayed away for a year, not giving a shit that Dean would be grieving and going crazy thinking he was in the pit. That was why he barely raised an eyebrow when Castiel tortured a kid, or when he had to put down a baby shapeshifter.

Because he didn't feel anything. Because, he wasn't_ Sam._

_Don't freak out…don't freak out…_Dean took in a couple of deep breaths. He cleared his throat. Couldn't. He couldn't get a word past the claxon in his brain that was screaming that Sam Had Lost His Soul.

Sam sighed next to him. "I knew you wouldn't like it. I know it's weird. If you want to, you know, hunt alone, or with someone else, I understand. I mean, it's not -"

"So, how does it work?"

Sam looked at him blankly. "How does what work?"

Dean tried to focus, be coherent. _Don't freak out…_"So, you're still you, you have your memories and everything, you just can't feel things? Like, emotional type things?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Like, I can remember being sad or mad or whatever, but, I can't really feel it anymore."

Dean still couldn't look at him. "And, when you die, what happens then?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't really know. Nothing, I guess. I'll just die. And, that's okay, too, I think. Just, you know, let it all end, for once and for all."

_Jesus. He has no soul and he doesn't care. Thinks it's hunky dory, in fact._ Dean tried to stay steady. "Who…um, who has it, do you think?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe whatever pulled me out? Maybe, just something that was in the right place at the right time? It's…I don't really know. Really, it doesn't matter."

Dean nodded. _Well, it matters to me and I am damn sure going to find out who has it. You are not going to live without a freakin' soul, Sam._ But, Sam wasn't going to want to hear that. He _liked _not having a soul. Because he couldn't feel the train-wreck that was his life. _Well, tough shit. You are getting your soul back. I am going to get my sad, smart-assed little brother back. _

None of that was going to help at the moment. Dean looked at Sam. Put on his game face. "Okay. Thanks for being honest with me. We ready to go?" He stood up, started walking to the car.

Sam came up next to him, put his hand on Dean's arm to stop him. "That's it? You're not mad or creeped out?"

Dean sighed. "Sam, I'm not happy, if that's what you're asking. But, right not we have a pissed off ghost killing kids to deal with. We'll deal with your soul-less ass later."

Sam actually _almost _smiled at that. "Thanks, Dean. I'm glad you're okay with this."

Dean turned away. "I didn't say that. I get why _you _are okay with it. Come on, let's get to Sandy Springs before any more kids die on the swing set." _I have a pissed off ghost to deal with then, a soul to find._

They dealt with the ghost, and didn't get too banged up in the process. They were pulling into a hotel two days after Sam's big revelation, and Dean was finally going to have a chance to do something about it. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. The way Sam's face barely registered an expression beyond 'listening' and 'acknowledging.' Dean had thought hell had roughed him up so he was blocking what he was feeling. But, really, he wasn't feeling anything.

In a way, it was actually reassuring to Dean. Sam had been so damn cold, so un-Sam, from that first meeting back in September. Dean had thought Sam really didn't give a shit about him anymore. He'd thought the sacrifice had burned away all his feelings for Dean. But, to know it was because his soul was missing, for whatever reason, it made him feel better. Because Dean was going to find the thing that had Sam's soul, and he was going to get it back.

Dean knew of two entities that could help him. But, he had to get rid of Sam to start this hunt. In the hotel, Dean threw his bag on his bed, and watched Sam put his stuff next to the table, sit down and take out his laptop. "Case-hunting already, Sam? Don't we deserve a little break?"

Sam looked up, that dead expression on his face. "Why? Are you hurt or too tired?"

Dean sighed. "No. No, I'm great. I'm just gonna go out for a little while. Try to relax a little, you know?"

The pre-hell Sam would have raised a brow, teased him about where, and with whom, he meant to relax with. But, this Sam just nodded. "Yeah. Have fun. See you later."

Dean felt a sudden wave of sadness go through him. He hadn't realized it in all the drama and relief of Sam being back, finding out he'd escaped the pit, being back on the road. But, he really _missed _his brother. Not this robo-Sam in front of him, but the earnest kid with the sad eyes who tried to do the right thing even when doing everything wrong. The kid who looked at Dean for reassurance every time they were in a bind. The kid who made him laugh just by being his prissy, anal self.

Dean let the sadness pass. He was going to get that kid back. He was not going to let his brother go through life without a soul. Sam thought it was easier not to feel? Well, screw easy. Dean was going to fix this.

"Okay, see you."

As soon as he was in the car, he called for Castiel. "I need you to get your ass down here. I am not playing, I am not kidding around, I really need you to-"

He felt the tell-tale rush of air, and Castiel was in the seat next to him. Dean raised a brow. "What, am I lo-jacked or something?"

Castiel stared at him. "I carved a sigil on the trunk of the Impala. It just makes it easier to find you. It is not visible to other angels, only to me. Saves time."

Dean sighed. "Whatever. Listen, I found out what's wrong with Sam."

Castiel nodded. "You mean, his soul has been taken?"

Dean grit his teeth. "You knew?"

Castiel just stared at him.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Castiel remained calm, lifted a brow. "I thought it was obvious."

Dean pulled the car to the side of the road. He leaned down and banged his head against the steering wheel. "No, Cas, it wasn't _obvious._"

"Then, how did you discover it?"

Dean looked out the window, sighed. His anger leaving, a tired sadness taking its place. "Sam told me. He's actually kind of stoked about the whole thing. He doesn't have to feel anything now, so, you know, yay!"

Castiel nodded. "I can see his point. It isn't comfortable to feel human emotions, Dean. It can be quite distressing, at times."

Dean looked at Cas, let him see all the will and determination that he had. "I'm not letting Sam live without his soul. It was taken from him without his permission, and he's going to have it back."

"I thought you said didn't want it back?"

Dean threw up his hands. "He doesn't know what the hell he's saying because he isn't _Sam._ He's some emotionless shell who thinks it's cool not feel sad or whatever. That's not Sam."

Castiel tilted his head. "Dean, even if you do find his soul, Sam has to want it back. You can't put a soul in an unwilling body."

Dean nodded. "You let me worry about that. Right now, we have to find whoever took it. I need you to help me do that."

"I can only help if it was an angel. Considering where it was taken, I don't think I'm going to be very useful."

"Check it out anyway. Just in case it was one of yours."

Castiel inclined his head, accepting the request. "I assume you're going to summon Crowley next?"

Dean looked back out at the road. "You bet your ass I am. That bastard has to know something."

Castiel gave what could almost be considered a smile. "Allow me to assist."

In the next breath, he heard Crowley say from the back seat, "Well, what a treat to be back in this dilapidated vehicle with two of my least favourite beings." He looked from Dean to Castiel. "Really? You're just keying in now?" He laughed. "Wow. You are one dense ass-head, aren't you Dean? It took you all this time to realize you were driving around with a soul-less little brother. Tsk, tsk. I thought you boys actually knew each other - after all you've been through."

Dean glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "What do you know, Crowley?"

Crowley sighed. "I know an awful lot, Dean-o."

Dean raised a brow. "Really? We're going to play this game? What do you know about who took Sam's soul?"

Crowley's brows came together. "What do you mean, took his soul?"

Dean sighed. "Can we not do this? Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

Crowley looked perturbed, waited for Dean to go on.

Dean spun to face him. "You really don't know what I'm talking about?"

Crowley made a face, imitated Dean's irate tone. "'You really don't know what I'm talking about?' No! I really have no idea. So, why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me just what the hell you are talking about?"

Dean glanced at Castiel. Castiel shrugged. "He appears to be telling the truth."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Oh, thank you for the ringing endorsement rumpled angel with bad fashion sense!"

Castiel looked down at himself. "This is bad fashion?"

Dean put up his hands between them. Gave Castiel a quelling look. Turned back to Crowley. "When Sam was taken from the cage, whatever had him, whatever popped him topside, took his soul just before letting him go free."

Crowley did _not _like the sound of that. "I hope you're joking."

Dean just gave him his I-am-not-fucking-kidding glare.

Crowley genuinely looked angry. "No one is supposed to take souls without clearing it with me, first. If what you're saying is true, I have a thrice-damned renegade on my hands. There's a lot of power in having a human soul. Someone is fucking with my hierarchy behind my back."

Dean felt a sliver of hope. "So, you'll help me find out who it is?"

Crowley looked consideringly at him. Then, to Castiel. "You're sure no angel pulled your boy free?"

Castiel thought a moment. "I am almost certain, but I will investigate."

Crowley nodded. "If it was one of mine, and I was not informed, not only of the soul-robbing, but of the initial release, then I will happily help you fry the bastard."

Dean felt a little of the weight of the last 24 hours lift. "Thank you. Really. But, no frying until we get Sam's soul back. Promise me."

Crowley looked affronted. "I? Promise you? As if I have to lower myself to make promises to a human. Not likely." Right before he disappeared, Dean thought he saw Crowley wink at him.

Castiel spoke beside him. "I will be back when I know the 'intel' you're seeking."

Dean grinned at the angel's attempt to use vernacular. "You do that. Thanks, Cas -"

But he was talking to an empty seat.

Back at the motel, Sam was sitting at the computer, a half-eaten granola bar beside a glass of water on the table. Dean tossed a bag of food at him. "Eat something will you, Sam? It's that cous-cous crap you love so much. Still warm, too."

Sam looked up. "Thanks, Dean. Not that hungry, but, maybe in a little while." He went back to his case searching.

Dean came and joined Sam at the table. He opened his bag of burger and fries. "Sam, you have to eat. Even super-robo-hunters need fuel."

Sam sighed. "I suppose you're right." He opened the bag, took out the Styrofoam container and started to eat, still paging through whatever he was reading on the computer.

And, Dean wanted to kick his own ass so hard for not noticing how different Sam was until now. True, he'd noticed he wasn't the same, but he hadn't wanted to see how cold and methodical Sam was. No, not cold, really. Just, detached. Sam wasn't mean or distant, per se. He was just, not _Sam. _Not emotional and guilty and wanting Dean's approval, or telling Dean to suck it or _anything_. Just, efficient, intelligent and unruffled.

_I can't believe I didn't see it sooner._

They ate, and Dean felt the determination wash through him again. He was going to fix this.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Six days later, Castiel landed in the front seat beside Dean with no warning. Dean barely startled. He was glad Sam was at the library. When Castiel didn't speak, Dean glanced at him. "Well? You gonna make me ask?"

Castiel shrugged, "I thought it was the polite thing to do, yes."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Hello, angel of the Lord. Did you find out who took my brother's soul?"

Castiel nodded once. "It was not an angel. But, I think it was something that sought permission from heaven."

Dean pulled off onto the gravel shoulder. This was getting to be a weird habit, chatting with Cas on the side of the road. "Explain, please."

"Some of the higher angels, the ones working for peace in heaven, told me about a rumor, surfacing about the time Sam was set free. The word was, a being from the underworld sought sanction to release a human from the cage of hell. The phrasing is significant to Sam because no one in heaven calls hell 'the cage.' One can only surmise it was referring to an actual cage."

"Lucifer's cage."

"Yes. The being was seeking sanction, wanting reassurance that, if God did find out, there would be no punishment for this act."

Dean waited. Finally, he prompted, "And, God gave sanction?"

"It appears so, yes. Or, Joshua or one of God's confidants. Someone gave the 'go ahead,' that much is clear."

Dean considered. "But, the thing that took him, it was something from hell, right?"

"I believe so."

Dean looked at Cas. "So, could you, you know, give Crowley a ring for me? Ask him to-"

"Get his ass here pronto?" Castiel's mouth went up in a slight grin.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "Yes. And you can use those words."

The next moment, Crowley was in the backseat. "Oh, for pity's sake. Can't I enjoy a lady's company without being whooshed away to waste time with the two of you?"

Dean just gave him a stony look.

Crowley sighed. "Apparently not. I was going to pop by for a visit anyway. Seems you were right. There is a renegade demon who's been thinking he can rise to a better station by collecting the power of human souls. I have it on good authority that he happened by your brother as he was being pulled out of the cage and took advantage of his weakened state."

Dean felt that shiver of hope again. "So, Sam didn't make a deal?"

Crowley sighed. "No, no deal. It was a theft, pure and simple. Makes me ashamed to be a demon. I mean, it's not like it's hard to get a human to give up his or her soul by choice. It barely takes a nudge. Why, you know that better than anyone, don't you Dean?"

Dean turned to Castiel, "So, if there wasn't a deal, Sam can get it back, right?"

Castiel turned to Crowley. "It would depend on if there were honor in hell."

Crowley looked offended. "There are rules, gentlemen. Even in hell."

Dean looked back at Crowley. "So, who has it?"

Crowley smirked. "A little piss-ant named Damian."

"He had to the power to pull Sam from the cage?"

Crowley gazed at him steadily. "No. I'm still working on what actually pulled him out. Damian simply saw an opportunity and took the soul."

_Why is it never easy? One thing at a time, Dean. _He continued to look at Crowley. Crowley gave him a 'what?' glance. Dean rolled his eyes. "Can you get it back from him?"

The demon smiled. "Fraid not, Dean-o. That's all up to Sam. Only the human who was robbed can claim his property."

Dean sighed, nodded. "Okay, I'll take care of Sam. You get Damian up here by tomorrow night?"

Crowley smiled. "Oh, it will be a pleasure, I assure you."

Dean raised a brow. "You're sure he'll come?"

Crowley snarled. "He won't have a choice. That's the fun part."

And Crowley was gone.

Dean turned to Cas. "Thanks, you know, for helping me with this."

Castiel looked as serene as ever. "I hope you can convince Sam that he needs his soul."

Dean turned the car back on to the road. "Yeah. Me, too."

By five o'clock the next afternoon, Dean was starting to feel anxious. Sam had looked at him funny all day, and he knew he'd been quiet. He was trying to come up with reasons why Sam should want to feel all the crap that was his life. How he could convince Sam that _feeling _was better than _not _feeling. He wasn't coming up with much. Sam's life had been one long parade of feeling like shit.

But, he didn't know what time Crowley was going to show up, so he knew he had to act. Sam was on his bed, cleaning his guns. Dean came over, sat across from him on his own bed. "Sam. I need to talk to you."

Sam looked up, continued what he was doing. "Yeah?"

Dean rubbed his hands along his thighs. Cleared his throat. "Um, it's about your soul. It's about, maybe getting it back."

Sam tilted his head. "How is that even possible?"

Dean zeroed in on him. "If it were possible, would you want to?"

Sam tilted his head, considered, wiped the handle of his gun. "I don't know. No, I don't think so."

Dean's heart kicked up. He strove for calm. "Why not?"

Sam put down his rag. Laid the gun on a towel. Looked directly at Dean. "You really have to ask? I mean, come on, Dean. Think of it, if you didn't have to feel any of it. Mom, dad…hell. If you knew it all, but, just, didn't have to be drowning in it all the time? Is that really such a bad thing?"

Dean breathed in, breathed out. He felt like he was arguing in front of the Supreme Court for Sam's life. He couldn't screw this up. He was going to have to reach him without the connection that had always been between them. He felt lost. _Just tell him what you really feel. Maybe that will reach him_. So, Dean consciously tried to drop his walls, to speak to his brother like he had in his head all those months he'd thought Sam was dead. "Sam, this is really, really important to me. If you ever listen to me, listen to me now, okay? I heard you out, I listened just like you asked me to, right?"

Sam looked so still, so _uninterested. _He just kept his steady gaze on Dean, almost no expression on his face. If Dean had to look at that for the rest of his life, he was going to eat a bullet. Jesus. Dean sighed. "This is your _soul_ we're talking about, Sammy. The essence of who you are. Without it, you're just…"

Sam nodded. "I know. I'm not the same. If you don't want to deal with me, I get it. It's okay. You don't have to-"

"Fuck that! Yes, I do have to!" Dean stood up and started to pace. "You're my brother, Sam. My family. It's…" _everything to me._ He swallowed around the emotion climbing up his throat. "And, this" he gestured to Sam, waving his hand, "this is fucked up! You are not a robot. You're a person. Your soul makes you everything that you are. Everything that I -"

Sam raised his brow in question. Like he didn't quite get what Dean was trying to say. Dean tried to calm down. _Think, Dean. Reach him through his head, if you can't touch his heart. _"Sam, you remember when we were in Stull, don't you? I mean, Lucifer was in control, but he said you were in there, that you could see everything. Could you?"

Sam looked down. Dead feelings or not, Stull had to get some reaction out of him. He spoke quietly. "Yes, Dean. I remember Stull. I remember Lucifer wanting to break every one of your bones, and using my hands to do it. You think I want to feel that helpless rage again? This is not helping your argument."

Dean noticed Sam's breathing had gotten a little faster. It gave him hope. "Do you remember what I said to you while you were-while Lucifer was beating the crap out of me?"

Sam swallowed. "I remember."

Dean raised his brows.

Sam sighed. "You said you weren't going to leave me. That you were there, and you weren't leaving."

Dean nodded, felt his chest tighten with the memory of that moment, when Sam took control. When he stepped back from Dean and told him it was going to be okay. "And, you took control of that evil bastard, and saved the world."

Sam looked away again. Dean sat down next to him on the bed. Put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "That's what it means to have a soul, Sammy. That you would do the hardest thing, the _worst _thing for yourself, because it was going to help somebody else. That's who Sam Winchester is. That's the guy I want at my side. My _brother._ The kid I've..." Dean cleared his throat again. "The kid I've loved since the day he was born. The kid that's made me so proud to be his brother. Not this, not some emotionless hunter who punches the clock and cleans his guns and doesn't give a shit. That's not _you_."

Sam nodded, looked up to Dean with his neutral eyes, his calm expression. "You're right, I'm not that guy any more. But, I'm glad, Dean. I'm glad I'm not him anymore. Because I remember more than Stull." He sighed. "I remember getting Jessica killed. A sweet girl whose only crime was loving me. I remember waking up in Cold Oak, knowing something was wrong, that I shouldn't be there. And, finding out that you had made a deal to save me. That you were going to hell and for what? To bring me back? Who the hell was I to cost you so much, huh? And that whole year, Jesus. Feeling like the stupidest, most useless thing on the planet, because I couldn't get you out of that deal. Oh, and that oh-so-heart-warming memory of watching hellhounds rip you apart. And burying you. That was some good clean fun, wasn't it? Should I go on? That golden time with Ruby, when she convinced me that drinking demon blood was the only way to kill the evil that was Lilith? And, I believed her? And, I did that, just to let Lucifer free to kill how many people again, before we stopped him? It's bad enough that I have to remember it all. That I have to live with it all. But, I don't have to _feel_ it. I don't have to lie awake at night wondering how the hell I'm ever going to sleep again, with all the shit I've done. So, yeah, maybe this isn't me. But, it's what I can live with."

Dean felt his own temper spark. "Yeah, Sam. You lived through all of that. You and me, we fought our way through it. So, what? None of that matters anymore? You're so full of self-pity you're gonna live like a mannequin the rest of your life? Remember what Hendricks said when he threw us in jail? 'Life sucks, get a helmet.' And, sometimes, especially for us, life really does suck. But, Sam, it's us. And, what do we keep learning over and over again? That, if we stick together, we can get through all the evil shit the world, or heaven or hell throws at us. Somehow, after everything, you're here with me and it's a goddamned miracle. Whatever came before, you can deal with it. You can let yourself feel it, it can't hurt you now. That stuff is over. And, you're robbing yourself of what might still be out there for you to feel. Jesus, you don't laugh, you don't bitch, you don't even smile at puppies or babies."

Sam closed his eyes, let his head drop. Dean hoped he was still listening. "Sam, this is no way to live. You can't really enjoy _anything _if you can't feel anything. And, besides the way you're cheating yourself, you're cheating me. I need you to be here with me. Not this machine. Not the guy who looks out the window thinking of the next hunt. Just, you. Just my brother. I need it like I need nothing else, man. I need you with me, Sam. Please."

Sam sighed, like the argument for his soul was getting tedious. "Dean, I'm sorry if I'm a disappointment, but this is my choice. I-"

In the next breath, Crowley and a demon whose skin was still smoking were standing in front of them. Crowley smiled, holding the vessel, an older looking man, by a rope around its neck. "Well, I believe Damian here has something that belongs to you, Gigantor."

Sam looked from Dean to Crowley and back again. He didn't sound happy when his eyes narrowed at Dean. "You did this."

Dean didn't cower. "You're damn right I did."

Sam's voice was almost stern. "I told you I don't want it."

At that, Damian smiled. "Well, then. There's no problem, is there? Looks like we went through all this for nothing, Crowley."

Crowley gave the rope a good yank, and Damian's eyes lost their smirk. The noose tightened, the demon gasped and Crowley looked bored. "You have about two minutes here, Sam. Before Damian has to go downstairs for a little corporal punishment. This offer will expire at that time."

Dean looked up at him. "What?"

Crowley shrugged. "A human soul is a hot commodity, Dean. If Sam here doesn't want his, well, I can put it to excellent use."

Dean turned to Sam. "You hear that? You want your soul in some demon's hands, so he can bargain his way up the chain of command in hell? Is that why you beat back Lucifer and jumped into the pit? So demons could use you like a freakin' poker chip?"

Sam shook his head. He looked at Dean with real concern in his eyes. "Dean, I don't think I can stand any more. I…I don't want to feel what it was like down there. Please."

Dean put his hand back on Sam's shoulder. "Sam, you can handle it. I'll help you. I'll be here the whole time. What I told you in Stull is still true. It's always gonna be true."

Sam's voice was soft, when he finally spoke. "I'm afraid I'll go crazy."

Dean smirked. "As if. You think a little hell PTSD is gonna take you down. Please." He pulled Sam in closer, leaned their foreheads together. "Please, Sam. I want you back with me. The real you. I'll help, every step of the way. Whatever you need. Just, don't give up - on me or yourself. _Please_, Sam." Dean put all of his will into his words. Prayed like he hadn't in a long time. _Please let him say yes. I'm begging. Let him say yes. Please…_

Crowley huffed out a breath. "Going once…going twice…"

Dean looked at Sam, ready to get on his knees and beg, but Sam had his eyes closed, and he was breathing fast. Did that mean-?

With barely a whisper, Sam said, "Give it back."

Crowley said a soft, "Well, damn it all…"

An overwhelming white light filled the room, causing Dean to close his eyes. When he opened them again, Crowley and his demon were gone, and Sam was on the floor, curled in a fetal position. Dean thought maybe he was unconscious, but Sam was groaning, and his head started thrashing from side to side.

Dean got down on the floor next to him, pulled Sam's shoulders into his lap, tried to get a look at his face. Sam was trying to pull away from him, and damn, the kid was strong. Dean grasped harder. "Sam, stop! Stop fighting me. Just, try to relax."

But, Sam was too strong. He pulled away, rolled to his feet. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were streaming. He kept putting his hands to his head, over his ears, then over his eyes. He yanked on his hair, then covered his eyes again. He was murmuring, "No…no, no, no. Stop…Oh, God. Fuck. Stop!"

Dean felt a wave of guilt. _I did this to him…_But, he pushed it back. They could do this. A hurting, overwhelmed Sam was better than a feel-nothing robot Sam, any day. If that made Dean a selfish asshole for wanting his brother, his _real _brother back, well, then. So be it. He was. He walked over to Sam, put his hands over Sam's where they covered his eyes. As gently as he could, he spoke to a reeling Sam. "Hey…hey, it's okay. Take it easy. We can do this. Just, try to breathe, okay? That's all you have to do right now, Sammy. Just breathe. You can do that, right? In and out…come on." He steered Sam over to the bed, sat them both down, side by side.

Sam's breathing started to slow. He lifted his hands away from his eyes and grabbed onto Dean's wrists. He put Dean's hands up to his face, tried to slow his breathing. His grip was tight and panicked. Dean let his hands relax, and opened them so he was holding Sam's head gently in his grip. He let his fingers stroke the shaggy hair. "That's it, you're doing great. Just like that, Sam. Just, in and out. I'm right here, man."

Sam got a hold of himself, finally. He pushed Dean's hands off his head and turned away. He fell face down into a pillow on the bed, gripping it in his hands, pressing it to his ears. Dean let his hand rest on Sam's back. That Sam didn't push it away, Dean counted as a victory. A long time passed. Maybe half an hour. Dean just sat there, with his hand on Sam's back. After a while, he'd started to stroke up and down, telling Sam he was doing great, that he could do this, that it was going to be okay. Mostly, he just wanted Sam to know he was there.

When Sam started to loosen his grip on the pillow, Dean stopped his stroking. He just let his hand rest on the middle of Sam's back. And he waited.

Sam finally turned his head so he wasn't face down in the pillow. He let out a long breath, kept his eyes closed. He groaned a soft, "Oh, God…"

Dean leaned down. "You want some water or something?"

Sam kept his eyes closed. Tears were drying on his face, he was still breathing hard. "How about some frickin' _tequila_? Jesus, Dean, water? How about a band-aid and a lolly-pop. Then it will be all better. Shit."

Dean couldn't help it, he laughed. He tried to hold it in, but it was just so _Sam._ After over a year of missing this, missing _him,_ Sam was back.

When Sam opened one eye and gave him the mini bitch face, Dean felt so damn happy he actually leaned down and kissed the side of Sam's head. "Welcome back, Sammy!"

Sam closed his eye, sighed. "Shut up. This just sucks so hard…I hope you're happy."

Dean sobered a little at that. He was happy. Sam was suffering, but Dean was freaking over the moon. "I'm proud of you, Sam."

Sam sighed and rolled onto his back. Dean sat back to give him room. "It's all there, Dean. Everything that was done to me down there." His voice came softer. "Everything _I_ did down there. All that shit I didn't want to ever feel again."

Dean nodded. "I know. But, Sam, you can handle it. I promise, you can. I'll help you if you need it."

Sam gave a short laugh. "Oh, you bet you will. Every time I freak out and want to run screaming into the night, I'm gonna wake your ass up and make you fix it."

Dean smiled, nodded. "I can do that."

Sam scoffed. "Sure, you say that now. Wait til it's 3:00 am and I think I'm in the cage again. That'll be some fun times."

Dean didn't lose his smile. "No problem, man. We can play Scrabble and you can cheat with all your non-words."

Sam raised a brow. "You play Scrabble?"

Dean looked affronted. "Hey, I have an extensive vocabulary."

Sam sighed. "Dean, you can't use sexual positions or cuss words."

Dean's heart was doing a frickin' dance, he was so happy. Sam must have seen it on his face, because, for the first time in forever, Sam gave him a little sardonic smile. "You're really stoked about this, huh? All my pain and craziness, it's really making you happy?"

Dean's smile dimmed. "Your pain will never make me happy, Sam. Jesus. Having you back, really having you back, that's making me pretty damn happy, yeah."

Sam sighed, closed his eyes. "Honestly, Dean. It was really nice not to have to feel any of it."

Dean nodded. "It was easy, you mean."

Sam opened his eyes. He looked tired and spent and slightly pissed off. Dean had never seen anything so beautiful. Sam huffed out a breath. "Yeah, it was easy, okay? God, you make it sound like a crime."

Dean shook his head. "Not a crime, Sam. Just, not the Winchester way."

Sam's laugh was meager, but there. "Ain't that the truth. Lucky us."

Dean put his hand on Sam's chest, right over his heart. "Right now? Yeah, I feel pretty goddamned lucky."

Sam put his hand over Dean's. His smile was a little more genuine. "That's cause you're a freak."

Dean tilted his head. "True enough." He signed, rolled his neck. "You hungry?"

Sam considered. "Actually, I am."

Dean stood up, slapped Sam's leg. "Well, come on. I'll treat you to a steak. It's not every day you get your soul back."

Sam rolled to his feet. He stood there a minute, looking around the room, then his eyes landed on Dean. "It's weird. I feel heavier because I know there's a shitload of emotions to wade through. But I'm lighter, too. Like, it took more energy to move around without…you know."

Dean pulled on his jacket. "Without 'Essence of Sammy?'"

"Yeah."

Dean took his car keys out of his pocket. "Sam, you weren't yourself. Whether you thought it was easier or whatever, you were not really you. That has to take a toll, don't you think?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. But, you know, being me takes a pretty big toll all on its own."

Dean opened the door, felt the crisp fall breeze roll over him. "You and me, Sam. We'll take care of it, okay?"

Sam walked through the door with him. "Yeah. Yeah, I hope we will."

"Damn right we will." Dean felt his appetite kick in like he hadn't felt in forever. "Now, let's eat. I'm starving."

"Dean, always with the food. How are you not 300 pounds?"

Dean was unashamed to admit to himself that he felt real joy in that moment. His brother was back, really back. And, for Dean, nothing else mattered. Nothing else would ever matter more than this.

THE END


End file.
